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“No.” Her eyes are wide and pleading. “It’s just a party, Anna. Geesh.”
“Fine. I’ll go.”
Instantly, Iris hops up and down in her seat. “Yes! We’ll have fun. And then we’ll go dancing.”
Iris is my opposite in all ways small. She loves reality TV, finds movies too long, and only reads when it’s for an assignment. Her idea of fun involves a credit card and an open mall, and she has harbored a massive crush on Justin Bieber, despite all his WTFuckery, since her junior year of high school.
Her continuing love of The Bieb is evident by the fact that her favorite nightshirt is an ancient My World concert tee. And while the image of his faded face plastered over her boobs is more than creepy, I hate that she hides the shirt whenever Henry comes around. Or rather, I hate that Henry makes her feel like she should hide it for fear he’ll make fun of her.
Despite myself, I glance at the spot where Baylor had been. He’s gone and is probably making plans of his own. I suddenly feel restless and wrong. Like I don’t know who I really am anymore. Which makes no sense. Maybe I’m coming down with something.
three
Anna
As I rarely go to parties, I have no idea what to wear. Jeans and a T-shirt will just get me sent back to my room by Iris. She is of the “if it ain’t tight you ain’t wearing it right” school, especially if she’s planning to hit up clubs afterward. However, I am of the “I refuse to be uncomfortable in the name of fashion” school of thought. So where does that leave me?
After forty minutes of cussing and general clothes throwing, I’m in a black camisole with a built-in bra, which is fairly daring for me, considering the size of my boobs, and a soft A-line skirt that hugs my hips but swishes around my thighs and ends a few inches above my knees.
Not wanting to leave my room, I procrastinate by peering into the mirror. My hair has a fuzz factor of three, which is acceptable, and my skin is clear. I apply a sweep of smoky-lilac shadow to make my eyes appear greener and dab a berry lip stain on my lips. So then, I’ve done all I can.
I tromp out to the living room for inspection time. Iris, as usual, looks fantastic. I don’t even know how she does it; she’s wearing tiny black leather shorts and a silky indigo top that hangs over one toned shoulder and is open in the back. If I wore something like that, I’d look horrible, but she’s so lean and small, perfection on stiletto ankle boots.
Her dark eyes narrow as I stand there.
“What’s with the boots?” she finally asks.
“You’re wearing boots.”
“Ankle boots. Totally different. Those are granny boots.”
“These are vintage Fluevogs,” I protest. “Victorias.” Black-rubbed emerald green leather, they lace up to midcalf and have an ornate heel that resembles the legs of Victorian furniture. They are quirky, and the most expensive shoes I own. My mother gave them to me for my twenty-first birthday, and I kissed her for it.
Iris lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You look like you’re going to a vamp ball in them.”
“Watch it, Little Miss Belieber. I can still stay home.”
“Sorry, sorry. You know how I get before going out.”
Yeah, obsessive. Because she might disappoint Henry the Dickhead.
She strides over to me, taller now in her insane heels, and gives me a kiss on the cheek. The light, flowery scent of her perfume surrounds me. “You look gorgeous,” she says. “God, I wish I had your curves.”
“We can do an exchange, because I’d love to rock those shorts without terrifying the populace with my thighs.”
“Fine, my thighs in exchange for your boobs.”
“Deal.” We both laugh, having made this deal numerous times before.
We take Iris’s car because I don’t trust Henry to drive me home, and I have a feeling she might go off with him later. I’ll drive hers back. I’d take my Vespa, but Iris doesn’t like to drive to parties alone, and frankly, I’d get helmet head if I did.
Iris taps nervously on her steering wheel as we drive along.
“Why are you so worked up?” I finally ask. “More so than usual, I mean?”
“No reason.” She turns down a street.
Frat houses line the block. “Iris! You said this was an off-campus party.”
